


If You Don't (Mean It)

by z8tto (ura_nium)



Series: Rotate* for a Default [3]
Category: ATEEZ (Band)
Genre: Angst, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Eventual Romance, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Implied Sexual Content, Like please people TALK, M/M, Mentions of Panic Attacks, Miscommunication, don't avoid each other, if they like each other they like each other it's not that deep, this is a confession fic so let's not lie to ourselves because, this is definitely gay
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-14
Updated: 2020-11-14
Packaged: 2021-03-10 00:07:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,015
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27565018
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ura_nium/pseuds/z8tto
Summary: "Hyung, did you and Seonghwa hyung get into a fight or something?"Hongjoong looks up slowly from his phone at Wooyoung."Me and..." he starts carefully, before backpedalling, "H... Why?""Just... You seem be avoiding him."A bubble of laughter escapes his lips, and he stops it in time."I'm not avoiding him."Seonghwa."Are you sure?"He's avoiding me.ㅡㅡㅡPost first think later that's my mottoㅡㅡㅡPartially inspired and motivated by the lyrics of Mean It by Lauv & LANY
Relationships: Kim Hongjoong/Park Seonghwa
Series: Rotate* for a Default [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1638001
Comments: 23
Kudos: 150





	If You Don't (Mean It)

"Hyung, did you and Seonghwa hyung get into a fight or something?"

Hongjoong looks up slowly from his phone at Wooyoung. The boy is hanging out in his music studio, legs slung over the armrest of the couch in his room as he messes about with the vlog on his laptop. 

"Me and..." he starts carefully, before backpedalling, "H... Why?" 

"Just... You seem be avoiding him." 

A bubble of laughter escapes his lips, and he stops it in time. It tastes bitter on his tongue, like bile. So he just coughs, trying to sound nonchalant. 

"I'm not avoiding him."

_Seonghwa._

"Are you sure?" 

_He's avoiding me._

"...Did I say something to make you think this way?" He hasn't been outright _ignoring_ the other man, he just hasn't gone home to bed, nor messaged him directly in the past week. He was hoping that with some distance, things could get comfortable again. But maybe for the kids it didn't look that way.

His member shrugs, pushing up his spectacles into his hair and rubbing one of his eyes.

"It's just... You look tired, but you haven't come home to sleep all week. And you guys don't really call anymore. I remember you used to call... You would call Seonghwa hyung's phone, and he'd go around to see if anyone talk to you or something."

Right. He really hasn't slept properly since last Friday, but it's more or less a permanent condition at this point. And the calling... He has not been doing that at all. When he pulls out his phone thinking of the boys, his fingers start typing Seonghwa's number, but "friend" in the contact name always makes him hesitate. 

_Gentle fingers touching his arm, searching languidly. It brings him out of his stupor and he turns, blindly finding the warmth of the other person in the bed. It's dark, but he feels his warm breath against his forehead when he snakes an arm around the other's slender waist, pulling him closer until their legs are tangled and he can feel Seonghwa's heartbeat against his own._

"I've been distracted by work, I guess," he says a little lamely, hoping Wooyoung doesn't catch the lie, "I'll come home this evening. Game night?" 

"For real?" he chuckles when he sees how the other boy's face lights up. 

"Yup. Why don't you ask the boys what game they wanna play?" 

Thankfully, this pushes the original topic way out of Wooyoung's mind. As he watches the group chat blow up with Wooyoung spamming everyone about games and supper tonight, he tracks Seonghwa's icon in the chat. He sounds normal enough, at least over texts on the group chat. 

Their private chat stays empty.

_The house is quiet when he gets in at 3am, and he's worried that he'd wake the others. He's not the most careful person, but he's sure he'd been quiet enough. So that means that Seonghwa had definitely been waiting up for him, because as soon as he steps into their dark room, he's caught by a pair of steady hands, and the soft scent of fresh linen and sandalwood. After the cold ride home in the taxicab, the warmth of another is intoxicating, he thinks as he tilts his head up and they fall into a deep, heady kiss. The first of many._

He admits that he's been trying to minimise contact with Seonghwa as well, mostly because he stutters when he's nervous and it's really obvious. For the first time in months, he can't remember what outfits Seonghwa has had on this past week, only because when they meet he just averts his gaze. He can tell you all the shoes he's worn from Monday to Thursday, though. He's memorised the order. He can't help it. 

_I miss you._

It was his fault, honestly. Maybe he read too much into things. Maybe it was too much. Maybe he misunderstood, because it was all too easy to fall in love with someone like Seonghwa. Maybe he just was too indulgent with himself, to the point he'd expected a fantasy to turn into reality. 

_"I love you." he expects a smile and joy, or at least for the kiss to continue, but Seonghwa freezes. Hongjoong drops back down onto the heels of his feet, pulling out of the kiss to try and read his expression, but the room is dark, so they are standing in the shadows, illuminated only by the string of lights that he'd gifted Seonghwa to decorate their display shelf with. He can't see Seonghwa's response, but his slowly sinking heart tells him maybe..._

The kids preciously sort out the order in which they plan to go back to the dorms, and Hongjoong can feel six, maybe seven sets of virtual eyes on him, so he goes against the pain in his chest and picks the car that Seonghwa is in. His eyes sting as he watches the rest of them carry on happily, likely relieved that their two oldest seem to have sorted it out. Can they? Is it possible to go back to the way it was before? He doesn't think he can ignore the way he feels and be just friends. But Seonghwa doesn't want him. Not like that. 

_What are we then, if we can't be friends?_

He takes the backseat in the car and closes his eyes for a nap before Seonghwa appears. He just wants to sleep this away, the tight feeling of anxiety across his shoulders, the salt of breathless tears on his tongue, crying himself to sleep at night on the studio couch. Maybe if he sleeps enough and wakes up, it will turn out to be a dream. Then it may hurt less. 

_Seonghwa's moving away from him, and the whole thing going in a completely different direction from where he'd imagined. In a completely different direction from the way things had been moving in, for the past month. Hongjoong suddenly feels deflated, like he's been cast into a vast emptiness all alone. The distance between them is a step and a half, but he has never felt so far away from someone before._

He gets nudged awake when they get back home, and he can't say he's not disappointed to see its the manager waking him and not... he staggers out of the car, head still heavy with sleep, and almost trips. It wouldn't be a first, but a hand catches his arm. 

"Thanks, Ming—" and he's looking into the eyes of the very person he's been trying to avoid. Seonghwa's face is an open book to him, and he reads worry, guilt just before he jerks away. He knows he's behaving like Seonghwa's presence is like a fire that burns if he gets too close. 

Maybe it is.

The kids order supper and set up Jenga as he mumbles something about washing up, hoping no one catches the look on his face. Everything needs to go, he thinks as he splashes cold water on his face, he needs to forget everything. Flush out all the thoughts and worries and assumptions and most importantly, give his imagination a wake up call.

It's just a dream, just a fantasy. He needs to stop pretending it's real, or that it's even possible. 

And yet, when he comes out of the washroom, he can still feel the stickiness of despair between his eyelids when he blinks. He can feel it on his face, the shame, like a film of perspiration, clinging to his cheeks. He looks past Seonghwa entirely, choosing to sit between Wooyoung and Jongho and off the side, so when he looks straight up, he doesn't have to see him. He doesn't even protest when he realises they're playing the Jenga Dare or Dare that Yunho invented last month. He's here to spend time with his boys, not wallow in his self-pity. He's going to do it right. 

The night carries on, and the game's not as bad as he remembers it being. He's actually enjoying himself a little — some of the best blocks have come up. Yunho pulls the "play the next round blindfolded" block right from the get-go, and he clears that because... well, it's Yunho. San pulls the "play a round in your underwear" and yells happily, sending everyone else into laughing fits. (Turns out he's celebrating because he'd decided to wear boxers today, which means the dare is not as mortifying as it was originally meant to be. In fact, he gets so comfortable he decides that he's gonna play the rest of the game like that.)

"Ah f—I mean, shoot." Jongho corrects himself, reading his block, "Kiss a member on their lips."

The rest burst into laughter, with Wooyoung clinging onto Mingi as he almost comes to tears from how hard he's cackling. Jongho looks like someone just told him he had to drink curdled milk. 

He leans away from the table as the rest of them teasing Jongho, praying that he doesn't choose him. It's an uncomfortable thing for him, physical touch. He doesn't like frivolous skinship for the sake of it. Sure, the fans love it, but to him it's something intimate and sacred. He doesn't ever, and will likely never do it with someone he isn't close to, and kisses are one of those things he doesn't just... hand out, like free samples. 

And that is why it hurts so much that Seonghwa just took everything they had and everything he gave to him and... 

"You're using that now? Dude, it's just a kiss!" San pipes as Jongho slams a block on the table. When his hand moves away, they see that its one of those special blocks that either Yeosang or San made, the word _"King"_ scribbled on it in a black marker, and a cartoon drawing of a crown.

"Wrong, it's _lip_ kiss. If I don't use it now, I'll regret it." Jongho sats defiantly, before scanning the suddenly silent group, "And I'm not kissing any of you, knowing that some of you did not clean your teeth after dinner earlier." 

"Hey, I brushed my teeth!" Mingi protests as Yeosang leans over to whisper into Jongho's ear. "I just ran out of toothpaste!" 

"I'm not talking about you, hyung." Jongho says, smiling sarcastically as Wooyoung wiggles his eyebrows and makes kissy faces from across the table, "As King of the Jenga block, I implore Seonghwa hyung to kiss Hongjoong hyung."

His announcement is met by resounding silence, then Yunho starts laughing so hard he chokes. There are twin grins on Yeosang and San's face, and Mingi's eyes go wider than saucers.

Hongjoong feels like he'd just swallowed glass. His tongue tastes like metal. 

He can't bring himself to look at Seonghwa, so he moves. The chair shrieks as he pushes away from the table, saying something about needing to take a walk. His movement sends the precarious tower of stacked wood crumbling, but he doesn't wait to watch it disintegrate; he barely hears the confusion that erupts in the room before he's already out of the apartment and making for the stairs.

_I can't._

It's been cold lately, with winter coming upon Seoul a little earlier this year. He thought he'd be able to handle it, maybe for an hour or more, just however long it takes for the boys to give up and go to sleep. But as soon as he steps out of the elevator and into the lobby of their residential building, a gust of wind sends a flurry of small, white flakes in his direction. It's _snowing._

But he can't afford to stay in the building, not when he can't even turn to look for anyone following him without feeling the mounting pressure of a panic attack in his lungs. He needs to get a hold of his bearings before he's ready to go anywhere near the apartment again. No one can see him falling apart like this.

The park is dark and empty and completely quiet in the light snowfall, so he tumbles onto one of the benches overlooking the yard of trellises, dotted with purple flowers that look black in the night. The snowflakes dust the ground and plants with a sheen of silver, but his fingers are quickly going numb so it doesn't feel that bad. It's honestly not so far from now he feels inside, like someone has sucked all feeling out of him, and he's filled with nothing but an overwhelming amount of space. 

He doesn't understand how it came down to this mess — he's usually the one who solves problems, he doesn't create them. How can he face the team now, knowing he'd not been able to resolve his feelings? How is he going to explain to them that he is damaging the team and their relationships with each other, because of this?

The park bench is cold against his back as he lies down, and stares past the muted glow of the street lamps, and into the bruised sky. There are no stars tonight, and for some reason, that is the last straw for him. The tears rush, hot and fast, to his face, but they are chilled in the winter air, so by the time they slide past the shell of his ears and into his hairline, they feel like rain. 

_He should have stopped it from the start, from that day he'd heard Seonghwa tossing and turning in bed and wondered if he was having trouble sleeping again — he shouldn't have climbed down from his bunk, slid into bed with his friend, and offered him comfort. He shouldn't have held him and talked to him until he fell asleep. He shouldn't have continued, one night turning into two, and then three, and then suddenly they seem to permanently share the same bed._

Hongjoong's vision is so muddied by tears that the light blotches out into patches of gray, and he can feel his sobs catch in his chest, each one a sledgehammer. 

_He shouldn't have let himself fall so deep -- when Seonghwa kissed him, he should have just pulled way, not kiss him back. He should've asked before reacting, then maybe Seonghwa wouldn't have responded, and they wouldn't have given themselves to each other like that._

It was nothing, after all. He should have known it wasn't going to turn out the way he predicted. He should've known that it wouldn't end well.

Hongjoong tugs the hems of his long sleeves over his fingers and curls them into fists to press against his mouth, muffling out his gulping sobs. He doesn't want to cry, he hates crying, but god, this hurts. He doesn't understand why it hurts as much as it does.

The sky is black and blue and dim. It looks like how he feels inside, tonight. If he stays here for a while, he thinks, maybe he will vanish, disintegrate and join the stars.

He doesn't know if or how he falls asleep, but the next thing he realises is that someone is shaking him, but he can't seem to open his eyes. There is shouting, and there's something being thrown over him, but he's teetering on the edge of unconsciousness.

He hears his name being called, but he's so tired.

He sleeps on. 

~

When he comes to, the first thing he notices is that although he's cold, everything feels warm. Not in a suffocating manner, but comfortably warm, like he'd just been invited into a heated room after being outside, and is slowly warming back up by a fire. 

He blinks tiredly, his eyes adjusting. He's in their room. The fairy lights are on again, giving the whole place a sleepy, warm glow, and he's staring at the underside of a bunk... This is Seonghwa's bed. 

"Hongjoong." he turns a little to see Seonghwa slipping into the room, eyes glittering in the low light. His lethargic heart skips a beat or two at the look of relief and happiness on the other's face, before he's seized by a crippling despair, that this must be yet another dream, a fantasy because Seonghwa doesn't want to be with him, couldn't possibly smile at him like that, for everyone to see, so it can't be real. 

The other man is moving carefully across the room, to the bedside, sidestepping a few human-shaped mounds laid out on blankets on the ground. The kids. Why are they sleeping? Usually in his dreams they're laughing and talking, and going around wrecking havoc, but he never really minds because, well, it's a dream. And they're his boys. They can do what they want, he'd still adore every inch of them. 

"You're awake. How do you feel?" He startles a little when Seonghwa's hand touches his forehead and he actually feels it. This is the most vivid dream he's had in a while. 

"Your fever's going down, that's good." Seonghwa sits down on the bunk as he withdraws his hand. It moves to rest atop where the blanket has been pulled all the way up, right over his heart. 

Huh. Maybe this isn't a dream after all. This is so disorientating. 

"Fever?" he croaks, his voice tastes like sandpaper against his tongue. Seonghwa pulls out a bottle with a straw from under the bed, and helps him sit up to take a sip. He aches all over, like he'd slept wrong on something hard and unforgiving. Like the floor. Why are the kids sleeping on the floor? Their backs will hurt if they do that. 

"You haven't been sleeping properly, have you?" when he doesn't respond, Seonghwa continues, looking pained, "I haven't seen you home all week. And then you go and stay out in the cold for the better part of an hour, without a coat. So what did you think would happen?"

He averts his eyes. A part of him is heavy and sour with guilt, but he swallows the reprimand because the knows he deserves it. He can't bring himself to meet Seonghwa's gaze — after a few beats of heavy silence, the other sighs. 

"When Mingi found you, you were burning up and passed out. We nearly called management, but we didn't want you to get in trouble."

"Oh." 

"The kids were worried sick. Yeosang and Yunho carried you back and all of them refused to leave until you were better." 

That explains the people sleeping on the floor in their room. An image of them playing Jenga flashes across his vision, and he asks in an attempt to try another topic, "They didn't continue playing the game?"

"How could we, after what happened?" 

Crap. Right. Hongjoong feels like telling Seonghwa to stop looking at him like he's about to explode into a gazillion pieces. Also, his face will get stuck that way if he keeps frowning. But he opts instead for another sip of water. 

"So..." Seonghwa starts as he chews the straw, "do you want to talk?" 

"What about?" 

"Hongjoong," an edge of exasperation creeps into the man's tone, "you literally ran out of the house in the middle of winter, it was snowing, and all because Jongho dared me to ki—" 

"It's not that simple." 

His snap makes Seonghwa shut his mouth. The bottle crinkles as he grips it too tight with his still-numb fingers, and his vision clouds with tears, _again_ , so he looks away, trying to hold it in. 

"After everything... out of everyone, you... You know me, Hwa. You know how I am with things. You know how I feel about skinship, about touching. So when I let myself be that way with you, when we got that close, did you really think that it was just for _fun_? Do you think I would really cross that kind of line with just anyone?"

He can't see Seonghwa's face, but the man's not stopping him so he continues, "and how did you think I'd take it if I had come out and expressed my feelings to you, as clear as day, and for you to reject me? Did you expect that I'd just continue like it never happened, or that we would go back, for me to share those things with someone who wasn't going to love me back? I'm not a robot, I can't live in the same room, under the same roof unless these feelings get solved, until I can handle living with someone who doesn't care for me the way I care for them—"

"But I do." 

The words ring in the silence of the sleeping room. Hongjoong feels his heart almost stop when he looks back. Seonghwa is searching his face, as if his suddenly blank expression could clue him into the thoughts racing through his brain. Had he... Had he heard him right?

"You—" his hand catches his shoulder, the other man's grip firm and steady, but not forceful or demanding. Now it's his turn to try and figure out what Seonghwa is thinking, but he only realises when the man starts leaning in.

"No." he pushes the bottle shakily into Seonghwa's chest as some sort of weak protest, "No, I don't want you to just give in because you pity me, or you think that I need it. I want you to kiss me because you mean it. If you don't—"

"I am not just giving in," the rest of his words die on his tongue, and his hands go lax. The bottle slips out of his grasp but Seonghwa catches it and his fuzzy, winter-numbed fingers, "and I mean it. I always have, every kiss, every single time. God, I don't just love you, I _adore_ you, Kim Hongjoong. I'm sorry I ran away from you like that when you said that to me, and if I could go back to that moment and done the opposite, I would."

It's like Seonghwa had been bottling all these things up inside of his chest for the past week, and only now was he able to release it. 

"I was just so, so scared. I didn't know how or if you were serious, and I immediately started thinking about worst-case scenarios and disasters that could come from it. It terrified me so I ran from the fear. I wasn't trying to run from you, or from our relationship, I was running from everything I was scaring myself with. I ran from myself. I realised that."

"... So, you..." his voice feels strange and foreign, like it's coming from another part of him, one that isn't reeling from the shock.

Seonghwa's eyes are shining in the low light, stars in the night sky, "I do have feelings for you, Hongjoong-ah—I think about you every waking second of the day, it would be a bold-faced lie to say I didn't feel that way. I was just scared stiff, but I'm know now that I'm more afraid of losing you. I'm more afraid of never being able to be by your side, or to have you by my side. I don't know if I've ruined it all by running like a coward but I'm saying that I absolutely, positively—"

Hongjoong moves before he can finish, closing the distance and catching Seonghwa mid-sentence. The other's lips are soft and cool, but the rush warms his entire being better than anything else in the world ever could. He reaches his arms around Seonghwa's waist as the man kisses him back with fervour, his hands cradling his head as they sink deep into the kiss. The long kiss leaves him breathless and floating— when they pull away, his vision whites out for a little, but Seonghwa seems to realise it and holds him close, letting him lean on his shoulder as support. 

"If you really pass out the first time we kiss as a couple, I swear to god, Kim Hongjoong," mutters Seonghwa under his breath, tone purposefully playful, but Hongjoong knows him well enough to know that he's also half serious. To assure him that he is fine, he digs a finger feebly into Seonghwa's side, chuckling when the other yelps in shock and annoyance.

"I just shut my eyes for a second. I was meditating."

"Right. Move in please."

He wriggles further into the bunk, and motions at Seonghwa. His roommate snorts and joins him with a soft smile on his face, as if Hongjoong is the cutest thing he'd ever laid eyes on. 

_Sap._

"Is that what we are now?" he asks as Seonghwa hugs him close again, "a couple?" 

"We've always been a pair. Matched sets. What else could we be then, if not together?" 

Hongjoong hums, nuzzling into the crook of Seonghwa's neck. His boyfriend wraps an arm around him, pulling him close. 

What a novelty. His _boyfriend_. 

"What were you worried about, if we got together?"

Seonghwa's breathing catches, "I was wondering what would happen if it got out. I was wondering what it would mean for our careers. I also...I was scared that if something happened between us, it would directly affect the boys."

He nods. He had thought of this as well.

"What if we got into a fight? What if... what if it doesn't work out, and we end up breaking up?" 

"Jeez, you're horrible, y'know," he can feel Seonghwa chuckling at his complaint, "we've only just got together, and you're already talking about leaving me?" 

"I don't mean it like that. You get what I mean, don't you."

"... Do they still bother you? The worries." 

"Mmm.. a little, but not really. I figured we could talk about it together. Or I also considered that, with it being you, you've probably already thought it out." 

"I have." 

Seonghwa nods, bumping his cheek against Hongjoong's fluffy bedhair, "Did you come to any conclusions?" 

He tugs the blanket higher, thinking.

"If we separate... We'll fight for custody." 

Seonghwa lets out a sound that's a cross between a cough and a squeak, "I'm being serious, Hong-ah." 

"I'm serious too. Let's see which of us the kids prefer, for real this time." 

"There'd be no contest, they'd pick me unanimously. End," Seonghwa declares, slashing his hand through the air to emphasise his point. Hongjoong rolls his eyes. 

"And _why_ are you so sure that they'd pick you? "

"Because I'm their favourite. And I cook better than you. Yeosang said so. So unless your cooking skills improve, I'm his favourite."

"Well, you can tell him that if he picks you, he can go ahead and try to find someone else to help them arrange their covers and pay for all their pizza and chicken," he declares playfully, butting his head against Seonghwa's cheek.

A soft gasp rises from one of the sleeping mounds on the floor. Hongjoong sits up so sharply that his vision spins, while Seonghwa chortles. 

"Boys."

There's a beat of silence then the sounds of someone, or several someones, whispering and fighting under the the covers.

"We know you're listening."

"I'm not awake," comes a muffled reply that sounds suspiciously like it belongs to San, but pitched lower to disguise it, "I'm sleep-talking."

"Really?"

Now it's Hongjoong's turn to laugh. Wooyoung finally manages to break out of Yeosang's hold, because the scuffling gets more intense, and then finally, a bedhead emerges from the middle of the cuddle pile, huffy and indignant. 

"Hyung, please, please, don't ever fight for custody," he more or less yells, ignoring his best friend's attempts to shush him, "we need chicken daily, and Seonghwa hyung still doesn't know how to use computers to do the music thing." 

Cute. Hongjoong shoots a tongue out at Seonghwa. 

"Told you." 

Jongho pops up, raising his hand like he's in class with his sleep-swept hair and wrinkled pajamas, "I heard Mingi hyung say he'd go to whoever offers more food."

"I did not! I said I'll need to see what they're offering first."

_Are any of them even asleep?_

"That kinda means the same thing, Mingi-ah," chimes Yunho from behind his friend, laughter in his voice. 

"Hey, aren't all of you supposed to be sleeping? That's what I was promised when I went outside to clean up," chides Seonghwa, his hand searching for Hongjoong's on the blankets. He takes it willingly and scoots closer while he watches his family bicker it out.

"We were, but Jongho woke me up when he heard y'all talking about us. It's not nice to talk about people behind their backs, hyung." 

"At least you weren't awake for the making out." mutters Yeosang, and Wooyoung squawks. 

"You let me sleep through that? That's it, this is over. Our relationship is _over_." 

"Does that mean Seonghwa hyung technically won the game? He completed the last dare." Mingi consults Jongho thoughtfully as Yeosang continues to try and placate Wooyoung. 

"San and I only let you sleep through it because you'd have made gagging sounds throughout." 

"San—Yunho-ah, make space I'm not sleeping between these two traitors anymore."

Seonghwa is laughing again, and Hongjoong decides then and there that its one of his favourite sounds in the world. He half-watches the drama unfold, drowsy and comfortable, his chest filling with something inexplicably warm and sweet. Love, perhaps. 

"Tired?" he tilts his head slightly up, and realises that Seonghwa is looking at him. Affection and concern stand in those soft brown eyes, honest and clear, and Hongjoong feels the heat of tears behind his eyes. Either he's turned into a completely hopeless romantic, or it's the fever. He's blaming the fever.

"Mmf, just a little."

"Sleep. I can manage them." Wooyoung is trying to fight his way out of San's hug now, and Mingi is trying to steal Yeosang's pillow while the other continues in his attempts to placate his irate best friend. Jongho has his phone out, videoing the fiasco and Yunho is just watching in amusement.

Hongjoong leans against Seonghwa and the other gives him a squeeze and starts running his fingers through his hair, soft and gentle.

"Love you."

Before he disappears, he catches the reply. And that's all he needs. 

"I love you too.

-fin-

**Author's Note:**

> All my fics seem to end up with a bed inside somewhere. ITS MY FATAL FLAW BEDS ARE JUST SO COMFY AND I CAN'T HELP IT
> 
> sidenote I know I often use the members as supporting characters, but it's really not because I don't know how to write them or I think their stories aren't important. It's just all the WIPs I have them as the focus are LONG AND CHAPTERED and I need TIME.
> 
> But ye this is also rated teen because of some implied stuff I'm not taking any chances. 
> 
> Enjoy im off to take a nap. In my BED. I love beds. In the most decidedly unkinky way.
> 
> Edit: just for fun and also it would be a shame for me to use my literature major against all of you like this and not breathe a word about it.. 
> 
> The reason why Hongjoong ends up crying on the bench due to the lack of stars in the sky is because of the fact that happens reminds him of Seonghwa somehow, but when he needs him the most, he disappears/doesn't seem to be there, like the empty night sky. Some of the "hwa" symbols are speckled leading up to the breaking point - snowflakes (눈송이 noon song-i = with song sounding like Seong, or 눈꽃 noon kkot = kkot means flower which can be sometimes translated to be 화 hwa); purple flowers (another kind of flower/화 hwa, also with purple being quite a symbolic colour used by the lgbtq+ community all over the world); stars (or the lack thereof, the 성 Seong in Seonghwa's name as stated by the man himself, translates literally to star 星 in hanja). I enjoy symbols, so intersperse in my stories from time to time. 
> 
> Thank you for reading, if you've made it to the end of this long, winding author's note.


End file.
